New Hope
by Silent Pandemonium
Summary: A year after Brooklyns apocalyptic burst of insanity a new tournament is beeing hosted. In New Hope we will follow various beyblade characters in the seven months leading to The New Hope Tournament that must prevent beyblade from beeing banned forever.
1. Prologue

A/N: Well, my first story on fan fiction net, I've had the idea for this story for a long time so I thought I give it a shot. I originally planned this to be a horror story but then I started writing and things turned out way different but then again that always happens with my stories.  
Important: Yes, there is an OC in this story, no she won't be the main character and she won't fall in love with any of the originalcharacters, besides from this chapter and possibly the last no other chapter will be written from her point of view, she will merely get the ball rolling so to speak.  
Disclaimer: I don't own Beyblade or any of it characters.

Enjoy

_~ Prologue ~_

_From the moment his icy gaze locked with mine, I knew he hated me; I didn't need my mindreading abilities to conclude that._

_His eyes told all._

_My brother hated me because mother had chosen me, because if mother hadn't had left him, he wouldn't have run from home._

_If he hadn't had left home, he would've never have set a foot in that hell pit that was the abbey._

_My brother hated me because I had the life that he was meant to live._

_I was surprised that it was so easy to contact him; the BBA had given me his files after only twenty minutes of pretending to be a college student making a report about the greatest Russian sportsmen in history._

_The fools, had it been Balkov my brother could've been dead by now._

_Mother once tried to contact him, three years ago to be precise, when the abbey closed down._

_She never was the same ago after that one call, it had been short, hardly five minutes, but it changed her life forever, and mine too in a sense._

_I had been twelve at the time, I should have been worrying about first bra's and periods and she should have been worrying whether I wasn't still too young for those heels I bought last week._

_But I didn't worry about those things, and neither did she, see, ever since she was rejected so badly by __her boy__ she had been a mess._

_She had always collected things about him, from magazines and newspaper articles to merchandise and every single one of his matches and interviews were always neatly recorded. _

_His birthday was always celebrated and with Christmas, there was always a little present for him, even though he would never see it._

_This was before that phone call, in my opinion still a bit overdone but it was livable, after that phone call she became obsessed._

_At some point it became a daily occurrence that I had to force the bottle of whatever she was drinking out of her hand, all the while coaxing her away from __The Room._

_The Room__ had once been a guestroom, but after that call it had become a shrine, that place terrified me sometimes, every inch of the walls were covered with pictures of him, the once neatly stocked away magazines and newspapers littered the floor and placed before one life-sized poster were dozens of candles and his never to be opened Christmas presents._

_That call changed everything, in five minutes he turned our mother into a wreck, turned her into a shell of what she had once been, her only goal in life to get as close as possible to __her boy._

_The worst thing of it all was that I could only watch, I couldn't do anything while she kept hoping no, not hoping , she had stopped hoping a long time ago and he had made it perfectly clear that he didn't want to know a bitch who left her own child, she kept longing for him to return. _

_Hence my genuine surprise when I saw him at the funeral._

_He stood next to me, his hair down in a low ponytail, the spitting image of our father._

_Except his eyes weren't clouded over by alcohol, they were sharp and alert._

_Those eyes that formed the only visible link between himself, our mother and me_

_Those eyes burned with hatred_

_Hatred for our mother for leaving him_

_Hatred for me for being the lucky one_

_The rain was pounding on both of us_

_Plastering his flaming red locks to his pale face_

_But neither of us bothered opening our umbrellas_

_We just stood there, in complete silence_

_Just us and the priest_

_And the rain soaking us_

_The downpour suddenly increased_

_Soaking us to the bone_

_Drawing out the voice of the priest_

_But neither of us moved_

_Both remaining motionless_

_Faces of emotion devoid_

_Two porcelain dolls, standing in the rain_

_I got an email a couple of days later; he asked me what had happened, why the coffin had been closed in the mort _

_I couldn't tell him the truth; I couldn't tell him about the attack, with her last breath she had made me swear that I would keep __her__ boy safe_

_He had always been her boy_

_His name was the last word she ever spoke_

_Keeping him safe meant keeping him oblivious to the horror movie that was my reality_

_So I lied_

_I told him about a slippery road, an agitated driver driving too fast, not paying attention, about an innocent by passer paying the price for his mistake with her life, her body horribly deformed_

_It was the story of a thousand others_

_But it wasn't the story of our mother_

_He stood there next to her grave, proud and tall, untouchable, undefeatable, the ice mask the world had grown accustomed to right in place _

_Balkov's perfect soldier _

_As I saw my only living relative walk away, I sincerely hoped for his safety's sake that it would be the last time I saw him_

_Because it might have been a wonder that he managed to survive Balkov Abby_

_It will be a miracle, if I reach my eighteenth birthday._

_------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------_

I hope you enjoyed this and that it got you curious for future chapters.

~*~

Silent Pandemonium.


	2. Chapter 1 Mute

A/N: whenever you see_ "Speak" _people are speaking in their native toungue but I only use this when they are around people who don't speak their language. e.g. when a member of the Battalion says "I need to go." on a BBA meeting it is English, does that member say _"I need to go."_ (s)he is speaking in Spanish. When the Battalion are alone together they always will speak Spanish but their entire conversation won't be in italics. I hope that made a bit of sense. Anyway, on with the first chapter of New Hope.  
Disclaimer:I don't own Beyblade.

* * *

Ian had to give it to him, Mr. Dickinson was either very brave or otherwise incredibly stupid.

Twin death glares were shot at him but his ever persistent smile hadn't even faltered once. He snuck a quick look at his captain, who was silently fuming. He was rigid, fists balled at his sides. The normally stoic face was screwed up in anger, jaws clenched and his lips pressed into a thin line. His eyes, that resembled the color of tropical waters, like he had heard a fan girl describe it, stood absolutely murderous. Yep, Ian decided, Mr. Dickinson was unbelievably stupid; no one in their right mind or with at least an ounce of self-preservation would even dare to stretch their luck so far with the leader of the Blitzkrieg Boys known as Tala Ivanov.

Yawning he let his eyes wander around the dull meeting room. Four grey walls, the one on his left having a window which looked out over the busy streets of the city of Tokyo. The large, oak table behind which they were seated was placed in the centre of the room. The wall behind them was littered with the usual photos of important people shaking hands and diplomas or whatever the shit was that people hung in a meeting room. In the far corner was a glass case with what appeared to be awards or prices of some sort. It was just your average conference room, nothing giving off the usual jolly feeling that Mr. Dickenson seemed to emit. The only personal touch that the elderly man had brought into it was one particular picture. Ian snorted, the photo had been taken just after the Russian tournament, it showed and insanely grinning Tyson, his arms wrapped around Max who was giving his usual 100 watt smile and a laughing Rei. A bit in the back was Kai, his shoulder clutched by a proudly smiling Stanly Dickenson, preventing the dual haired blader from walking away.

Next to him Spencer scoffed. Unconsciously they had formed their normal formation. Bryan as his secondhand was at his captain's right; followed by Spencer with Ian closing the line. He looked up at the blond giant and raised his eyebrows. Spencer just rolled his eyes and nodded to Bryan. The lilac haired teen's eyes were glued to the girl sitting next to Tala, or more precisely, the girl's chest. Ian let his eyes rest on the girl. How Natanya Ivanov managed to look threatening he couldn't phantom, the girl had the overall appearance of a porcelain doll but her death glare wasn't any less threatening because of it. Not in the same homicidal and intense way like her brother, but threatening none the less.

"_She doesn't look like Bryan's type to me."_

"_Everyone with cup C or bigger is Bryan's type Ian." _Came the muttered reply.

Bryan tore his eyes away long enough to flash them a grin.

"_Dam right Spence."_

Spencer just rolled his eyes.

"That brat is not going to live with us!"

Tala had apparently reached his limits, his chair toppled over as he jumped up, his fists slamming on the table.

"Now now my dear boy, calm down, see, neither of you have much of a choice. You're both orphans, and your sister is a minor, that leaves living with you four with me as your guardian, a foster home, or your real father assuming that he's still alive. I hope you agree with me on…"

"I don't care! I don't care! I don't care if she ends up in a foster home! I don't care if she ends up on the streets whoring herself out! I don't care if she dies, I wouldn't even care if she ended up with Boris himself!"

Silence filled the room.

Spencer stared at his captain, he had seen him angry before, furious even, but never had he seen the redhead on the brinks of hysterics. Never had he heard him using the name of their tormentor in such a way. He had known that he disliked his sister, he had made that perfectly clear on the day before the funeral, heck, the blond could even understand that, the 'bitch' as Tala had taken to calling his mother, had for some reason chosen the girl over him, condemning the seven year old to the life he was going to live, but what he had seen as a case of extreme jealousy appeared to be pure hatred for his only living relative.

When he looked at the girl in question his eyebrows shot up to his hairline. She wasn't shocked, she wasn't crying, she didn't appear to be hurt or angered what so ever by her brothers words, she had simply closed her eyes and leaned back in her chair, her face tired as she rubbed her temples like she was soothing a headache, a soft sigh escaping her lips, like she had been expecting it all.

"How can you say such things?" It was the horror struck voice of Judy Tate standing next to Mr. Dickinson who broke the silence.

"Oh believe me _Miss Tate_, I could calmly say a lot more than _that_." He spat, eyes narrowed, body shaking in yet to be exposed anger.

If Tala didn't calm down quick Spencer knew things would become very ugly _very_ soon.

Mr. Dickinson cleared his throat, nervously glancing at the fuming redhead.

"Well, see my dear boy, I well, I assumed that the two of you would be delighted to be reunited once again," this statement was met with an even more intense glare , "So this was merely a formality, everything has already been settled."

Two pairs of cerulean eyes shot up at that.

"What do you mean by that?" Tala demanded, his voice had lost the hysterical edge but it hadn't fully regained its usual drawl.

"Eh well, it means that I already am Miss Ivanov's lawful guardian and that she's going to live with you."

Tala just stood there, mouth slightly open, his fists beside his side slowly unclenching, like he was to shocked to express the anger that was roaring through is chest, his whole posture slumping.

His sister wasn't fairing any better, her hands had dropped to her lap where she left them lying limply, her big blue eyes wide.

"_This is not looking good."_Brian muttered under his breath, his eyes darting from the nervously sweating Mr. Dickinson to the motionless form of Natanya Ivanov, to finally settle on his captain, who was starting to shake.

_Not good at all._

He shot a fleeting glance at his teammates, coming to a silent agreement as lilac met with blue and magenta, they had to get their friend out off this room _now_.

But before they could even had a chance to get out off their chairs a gun shaped launcher had been raised and Wolborg was set loose leaving havoc upon its trail.

The silver blade made a beeline towards the head of the BBA who jumped out of its bane in the nick of time; his infamous bowler hat though, was ruined.

Judy Tate's shriek mingled with the sound of shattering glass as the blade spun around the room, travelling up the walls to knock down every piece of framed paper, before changing direction heading for the panoramic window where she tore down and ripped the curtains after which Wolborg headed right again, the window in her wake left with rapidly expanding cracks. Upon seeing the blades next move all of the Blitzkrieg Boys smirked and Bryan could swear that he saw a ghost of a smile tug at Natanya's lips too. She had picked up speed and moved along the table before it shot away again, like an ice skater marring the ice he skates on, Wolborg had left a white track upon the oak table, proudly spelling:  
_бредовый старый козел.  
_In one last motion of destruction the blade positioned itself above the glass case, before boring through it, sending glass and metal objects alike flying in every direction. Silence once again filled the room as the occupants were left staring at the still spinning blade.

"_Enough." _Hearing her master, Wolborg shot up to the outstretched hand, but on her way the blade came in contact with another skin, drawing the same blood that ran through her masters veins.

Bryan couldn't do anything but stare as the silver blade shot towards a still motionless Natanya, leaving the girl with a long, clean cut on her right cheek, blood oozing from the wound.

A chuckle, the room was in pieces, half of its occupants appearing to be in shock, and it was a _chuckle_ that broke the silence this time.

"_Bridovi starj kozil, good one Tala." _Tala simply snorted at the antics of his youngest teammate and with one he fluid movement spun on his heel, motioned for Bryan to get out of his way and stalked to the door, stopping before the threshold to look at his team with a quirked eyebrow.

"_What the hell are you waiting for?_ _Everything is once again decided behind our backs so no matter how much I yell and demolish the place, however how much fun that would be, it won't change a thing so I suggest that we head home now so start fucking MOVING!" _

With that he walked out the door swiftly followed by Ian and Bryan who smacked the door close.

Spencer was left with a thoroughly confused Mr. Dickinson and Miss Tate and a somewhat hesitant Natanya.

On the other side of the door he could hear the trademark _click _that their gun shaped launchers made when being loaded, followed by a loud bang and a lighter clang, the sound of scraping wood making Mr. Dickinson wince.

He raised his eyebrow at the still wavering Natanya and in a mock of her brother he asked:

"_Well what are __you__ waiting for? Move."_

He didn't have to tell her twice, she quickly scampered together, shouldering a large traveling bag and picking up a smaller one she made her way after him.

Closing the door behind him he smirked at the demolished room, Boris hadn't named them the Demolition Boys merely for its nice ring.

Making sure to smack harder with the door then strictly needed he took his time admiring Bryan's handy work.

The lilac-haired blader was a master craftsman when it came to wood; the large, detailed fist with a raised middle finger that was carved next to the same text that, courtesy to Tala, was now marring Mr. Dickenson's table was a fond reminder of what he had done to the abbey's doors when they finally left.

Looking down he nudged the copper plate, the cause of the clang, with his foot so it flipped over, in neat, cursive writing it read:

_Mr. S. Dickinson, Head of the BBA._

Spencer snorted, crazy old goat indeed.

Ignoring the girl he made his way to the elevators, the soft clicking sound of heels confirming that she was following him.

He rounded a corner and stopped abruptly before the elevator doors, so abruptly in fact that he felt Natanya collide with his back with a small 'oephff'. Turning around he looked down at her. Squirming under his gaze she bit her lip and cerulean eyes were lowered as she fumbled with the strap of one of her bags. Without a word he took them from her. Frowning he looked at her cheek. The rich, dark red color that was only possessed by blood stood out against her pale skin, sparkling like a macabre ruby in the artificial light. One particular large drop had welled up, and was now sliding down her face. His breath got caught as he watched the drop pick up speed; only to slow down again as it reached the tip of her chin, where it stopped before sliding down the pale neck. Without thinking he caught the drop before it could stain the white with fur lined parka. She froze as his thumb followed the trail the drop had made, smearing blood all over her cheek. He stopped at the start of the cut, looking in the familiarly colored eyes. Spencer had been wrong before when he had thought of the skin as pale, now his own pale hand lay upon the skin he could see its true tint, a pure white color, putting maiden snow to shame, now stained with red. Even her lips were of the same white, the only color in her face being the soft pink hue of her cheeks, giving the girl the permanent appearance of having been out in the cold for too long. With her one meter fifty Tala's baby sister wasn't tall at all, her eyes were the exact same shade of cerulean as her brothers and her features resembled his, only in a much softer way. The most noticeable difference between the siblings, beside the obvious height, was the hair. Whereas Tala had flaming red locks that fell straight past his shoulders when ungelled, Natanya had thick, black curls that reached her waist, bouncing with every step she took.

The sharp 'ping' that announced the arrival of the elevator startled both of them, Spencer snatched his hand back and she darted through the doors trying to get as much distance as possible between the two of them, this however, was proven to be a difficult feat when confined to an elevator measuring two by two meters. He chuckled as he saw her press herself in the corner furthest away from him.

"_You know," _he said as he leaned against the wall, _"You don't have to worry, I won't bite."_

He rolled his eyes as this statement was met with silence.

"_What? Don't speak much?"_

This did provoke a reaction. Her eyes flared up, her hands shot out of her pockets but in mid air she dropped them and stuffed them back again, a scowl on her face.

Spencer's eyebrows shot up but he didn't question her, instead he started patting his pockets. Five floors later his left hand emerged from his back pocket holding a wrinkled handkerchief. Absentminded he started wiping the blood from his other hand.

"_Here,"_ he tossed the bloodied cloth, _"It's clean safe for your own blood."_

Eyeing both him and the cloth wearily she slumped deeper into her corner.

"_Oh for Pete's sake,"_ He snarled as he turned his back to her.

"_Suit yourself then." _Unsurprisingly, he wasn't answered.

_What the hell is wrong with her? _He looked over his shoulder as he exited the BBA Headquarters, Natanya had wiped away the excessive blood and was now pressing the neatly folded handkerchief against the wound, the girl was clearly struggling to keep up with him. He snorted, like that would make him slow his pace. Familiar voices drifted towards them as they neared the parking lot.

"_You are not driving!"_

"_Give me the dammed keys Kuznetsov!"_

"_Red, your driving either gets us killed or gets us another fucking fine so shut that trap of yours and get into the fucking car!"_

Spencer's booming voice startled a flock of birds and an old lady across the street looked up indignantly.

It had helped though, Tala shot them all a withering glare but he got into the car nonetheless.

The blond put Natanya's bags into the trunk smirking before taking his place behind the wheel, starting the dark green jeep with a mighty roar from its old engine.

It took a long two and a half drive to get from the north of Tokyo to Beycity, a good hour longer then it would have usually taken them, the heavy November rain had made the normally safe roads dangerous and they had gotten stuck in a traffic jam caused by an accident. The drive had been spent in painful silence that had been broken only once when Spencer, who took pity on the small Ian who didn't handle tension all that well, had turned on the radio, resulting in an explosive argument between Bryan and Tala. For some reason Spencer couldn't imagine the red head liked classical music, clashing greatly against the screaming vocals and guitars Bryan preferred, how the falcon even dared to call that noise music was beyond him. Anyway whenever the radio was turned on the two had made it a ritual to complain and whine loudly at their companions taste in music, today however, both teens had been on the end of their tether and what normally would have been friendly banter had escalated in a downright yell fest. It took Spencer nearly driving off the road and an awful lot of yelling on his and Ian's part to make them shut up. He had turned the radio off and had grumbling resumed driving. Tala had returned to brooding, Ian was nervously swinging his legs and Bryan was staring out of the window again, a frown on his face, all the while sneaking glances at Natanya. Through this all she had remained oddly calm, the girl hadn't muttered a single word the entire drive but Spencer had seen her clearly annoyed expression and had heard her sigh multiple times while staring out the window. Needless to say he was beyond relief when he pulled up on the driveway of the small house they called their home. Not that the mood had gotten any better, not in the slightest, but at least now they were out of the cramped compartment of their car, and he didn't have to watch the road with one eye and Tala and Bryan with the other.

"So the love for orange runs in the family." Ian's statement had all eyes directed at Natanya, who seemed to shrink away under their gaze. She was wearing an orange knitted turtleneck, brown boots and a dark brown, knee lengthened skirt of suede with a matching gillet*. What got Spencer's attention though was the leather, square shaped pouch hanging from her belt.

"Listen closely brat." Tala had walked around the living room table and taken her arm in a vice like grip. Bringing their faces closer together, he took her chin in his other hand, his thumb caressing the cut before digging his fingers in, earning a frightened whimper from the trembling girl.

"You will live with us but I won't see you and I won't hear you, understood? Not a sight not a sound, I don't care how you do it, now answer me little runt, do you understand me?"

She nodded, blue eyes wide.

"I said answer me!"

Her hand reached for the pouch at her side but he slapped it away, releasing her chin and taking both her arms in his bruising grip.

"Not before you answer me bitch." He was violently shaking her. She futilely fought his grip, but not a sound escaped her lips.

"You are only making this harder for yourself, just…"

"Tala let go off her arms."

"Not before she answers me."

"She needs her arms to answer you."

Tala's head wiped around, staring at the blond, his grip already slacking.

"Say what?"

Spencer didn't meet his captain's gaze; his eyes were locked with Natanya's.

The unnatural silence, the frustrated scowl when she had dropped her hands back in the elevator, the reaction that one line had gotten:

_Don't speak much do you?_

The moment he saw her reach for that pouch, sized to accommodate a small book easily, it all made perfect sense to him.

"I think your sister is mutistic."

* * *

* Don't know if that's the right word, but I meant those sleeveless "jackets" men sometimes wear with formal suits, those things that go over the shirt but underneath the blazer, recently you see a lot of women wearing those (mostly in demin). I hope this made it a bit easier to know what I meant with gillet.

** The Russian words mean crazy old goat.

Well that was the first chapter, I hope you enjoyed and considering this is my first story some feedback/tips would be very appreciated.

Thanks for reading!

~*~

Silent Pandemonium.


	3. Chapter 2 Mixed

A/N:Special thanks to my very first reviewer Darial Kuznetsova, that one little line got me grinning like an idiot and prompted me to put up this chapter so soon. Thanks Darial!  
Warning:I forgot to include this one in the first chapter but there will be yaoi, nothing graphic though and for now I have only one couple planned.  
Disclaimer:I don't own Beyblade and _I know you want me _belongs to pitbull.

Enjoy.

* * *

"Why aren't we going to the BBA again?"

"Jonathan stop whining it is un…"

"Uncouth yeah I get it."

Robert gritted his teeth.

"It is_ unbecoming_ for someone of our status to _whine _like a little child in want of candy."

Johnny waved it aside.

"I get it Robert, but _why _are we going to some sports field instead of the BBA building? It's been raining dogs for days now, we're all going to get drenched and get mud all over us."

"You mean you haven't heard?" Enrique's eyes lit up; if there was one thing the Italian loved more than girls it was gossiping.

"Heard what?"

"Apparently Tala threw a fit in the big conference room a week ago, you know the one with the picture of G-Rev? Well the whole room was in pieces when he left."

Roberts's brow furrowed, "What does Ivanov having a temper tantrum have to do with us gathering at the sports field? Surely there are more conference rooms in the BBA Head building."

"I was getting there," Leaning forward Enrique lowered his voice, his smile growing by the second.

"Oh here we go," Oliver muttered softly as he leaned back in his seat next to the smiling blond who was obviously in his element.

"I got this from Julia who got it from Mathilda who talked on MSN with Michael who was told by Max, who overheard his parents, that Tala reacted very badly to some news he got from Mr. Dickinson."

He was met with blank stares from his teammates.

"That's it?" Johnny asked disbelievingly, "That's your whole revelation? That Tala reacted badly to some news he got? The guy's insane, the whole of those damn Cossacks are, but he wouldn't trash a room for nothing Enrique."

"Judy said," He bit back irritated, "if you guys interrupt me one more time I swear I'm not going to finish, that the…"

Oliver snorted.

"What?"

"You always say that you're not going to finish but the truth is you love this way too much to carry out that threat Rique."

"I do not."

"Yes you do."

"I do not."

"Yes you do."

"Anyway according to Judy the news that…"

"See, I told you so."

"Shut _up_."

"Quit this bickering you two, it is un…"

"Uncouth yes we know."

Robert growled, "_Unbelievably immature."_

Johnny snickered.

"Can I go on now? According to Judy they already know Tala isn't going to like their announcement one bit, they are apparently afraid that he will trash another room so they decided to bring us to a place where the eh, damage stays limited, if he decides to have another fit again."

"They _what?_ They are seriously sending us out in this weather because Mister-All-My-Social-Qualities-Have-Crawled-Up-My-Arse-And-Died-There won't like what they have to say?"

"There's no need to scream Johnny, we're all perfectly capable of hearing you when you speak with a normal volume."

"Oliver."

"Oui?"

"Shut up."

"Non."

"Do you also happen to know why Ivanov deemed it necessary to demolish that room?"

All eyes turned to Robert, who looked indignantly at the raised eyebrows, "What?"

"If I recall correctly last time captain you, and I quote, said that: "Gossiping was an uncouth and low activity only practiced by the vile of heart," what made you change your opinion?"

He huffed: "My opinion remains unchanged, and I'm not fishing for some lewd details like you like to do Enrique, I merely want to know why my team is going to catch pneumonia for some delinquent in dire need of anger management."

Johnny rolled his eyes, "Sure, Robert, just keep telling yourself that."

The purple-haired aristocrat ignored him and turned to Enrique, "Well? Do you know?"

The blond hesitated a moment before leaning forward again.

"That's the thing, no one knows, Max thought he heard something about a guest but he wasn't sure, all I know is that Tala must have been furious, it wasn't like last time at Tyson's dojo. That time it was more like: mess with me and face the consequences, like in a lesson, Max heard something about him loosing _complete_ control and about being _lucky _that there were no injuries."

Johnny whistled, "Man that is one scary thought, Tala loosing complete control I mean, seeing that his mental stability isn't all that reassuring when he _is _in control."

Oliver let out a dramatic sigh, "Now I need to know! I can't stand not knowing!"

Enrique looked thoughtful, "well, we could always try Daichi or possibly Kevin later, I'm sure they could get it out of Ian."

A strangled sound next to Robert got everyone's attention.

"Are you insane?" Johnny wheezed, "The three of them could prank the Devil and get away with it, remember last time? They set my kilt on fire!"

"You have to admit, they can be pretty funny, the sight of Rick with pink hair will always be engraved in my memory at least," Oliver said snickering.

"You only say that because they have never pranked you," in an afterthought Johnny muttered, "not yet anyway."

"I agree with Jonathan, the three of them should under no circumstances be left together without supervision."

"Master Jurgen we are almost at our destination, do you want me to accompany you sirs?"

"No Gustav it is alright, just tell the driver to let us out as close to the field as possible."

"As you wish sir."

Enrique bit his lip as he looked out of the black tinted windows of the limo, " I know that geography has never been my best subject but I'm sure it isn't normal to rain this much in Japan at this time of the year, this is almost worse than when I visited you in Scotland Johnny."

Oliver shrugged and leaned back in his seat, "Just ask Kenny or Emily later Rique."

Enrique snorted, "No thanks, Kenny is okay but I'm not looking forward to an extract from the encyclopedia, and you know how I feel about Miss Snotty."

Robert rolled his eyes, "Are you seriously going to dislike every female that does not fall for your charm?"

The Italian bristled, "First of all, I don't want her to fall for me and second you have to admit that she is an arrogant bitch, remember how she thought of Kai as "a specimen"? Come on, how sick are you if you think of another human as a fucking _specimen_?"

"First of all, watch your language Tornatore, second you don't talk about a lady like that and third Miss York is simply a driven scientist with a passion for the sport, it is not like she would turn people into lab rats in the name of science."

"You know Robert, the way you defend her I would say someone has a crush." Johnny grinned, amethyst eyes shining with mischief.

"I do not have a crush on Miss York, Jonathan I am simply doing my job as a gentleman to…"

"Emily and Robert, sitting in a three, K-I-S-S-I-…"

"The maturity level in here is dropping by the minute."

Oliver flashed him a grin, "Ahw, come on Robert admit it, somewhere deep within that with etiquette filled heart of yours you secretly love us for who we are."

He was saved from answering by Gustav who opened their door, "Here you are sirs, have a pleasant gathering and just call when you need me."

"Thank you Gustav."

"Finally! Their Royal Tardiness's have arrived."

"Good afternoon to you too Parker and, seeing as we are all not ruling members of a throne line, the correct title would be _Their Grand Ducal Tardiness's, _but then again I would have been surprised if a Yankee like yourself would know anything about royalty."

Michael opened his mouth to protest but he was dragged away by Emily.

"Since when did you start sounding like Robert Johnny?"

Johnny grinned at Enrique from underneath the umbrella he shared with Robert.

"It sounded cool didn't it? I bet that Parker didn't understand half of that."

"I bet you didn't understand half of that either Jonathan."

He and Oliver laughed as Johnny hurried to keep up with Robert's long strides.

"Oliver! Enrique! Over here!"

A panicked expression flitted over Oliver's face as he recognized the voice.

"Shit, what do I do Enrique?" The little Frenchman edged closer to his friend as they neared the two girls.

"I don't know what to say to her!"

The reason for Oliver's distress was Mathilda, see, sweet little shy Mathilda had the hots for sweet little merry Ollie over here, who was by now clinging to his best friend.

Enrique snorted, "You could just come out you know."

That was the problem, Oliver liked Mathilda but he didn't want to hurt her feelings by telling her that he never would like her in _that_ way

"Personally I can't understand how stupid she is, I mean, you are practically the embodiment of gay, the way you walk, the way you talk, the way you dress, it all basically screams...Owh."

An elbow colliding with his ribcage cut him off.

"Could you talk any louder?"Oliver hissed as his grip on Enrique's arm tightened with every step they got closer to the waving girls.

"Just relax Oliver, it's going to be fine and now we're on the topic is there someone special you like? You know that you can always tell us, as long as it isn't someone like Bryan we won't mind."

He stopped dead in his tracks as he noticed the tomato like color Oliver's face had adapted.

"Please tell me you don't like Bryan, I beg you Ollie."

"Bryan _is _hot but what do you mean with we? You're the only one I ever told!"

"Don't get your panties in a twist drama queen, I would never tell anyone and I meant that we, as in the team would support you when you decide to tell them, but seriously, you think Bryan is hot?"

Oliver snorted, "Have you ever really looked at the guy? Of course I think he's hot, all of team Neoborg are, Spencer is just one walking muscle, Tala is the pretty boy and he has the most gorgeous eyes I've ever seen, not to mention that he is an artist's dream to paint, Bryan is the perfect mix, muscled but refined and even Ian is in his own little way too, and oh, not to forget that all four of them are _very _well packaged."

"You okay man?" Miguel asked him wearily as Enrique thumbed his chest; he wasn't the only one giving him a funny look as he was choking on nothing.

He nodded and quickly went after Oliver.

"That were way too many details il mio amico."

"I'll remember that one the next time you start describing Briana what's her name mon ami."

"How the hell do you know all this?"

"I saw them naked."

If it hadn't been for Brooklyn Enrique was sure he would have skidded right into the particular large puddle in front of him. He thanked the smiling prodigy before turning back to Oliver.

"You saw the whole of team Neoborg naked and you're still alive? When the hell did that happen and how come you didn't tell me?"

"I accidentally walked into their changing room during the February Charity Matches and I didn't tell you because at the time you still thought I was straight so I figured you wouldn't appreciate a rant on Bryan's abs."

"Oliver."

"Oui?"

"I have never thought of you as straight."

"Thanks Enri, I can practically feel the love."

"You say it like it's a bad thing and don't call me Enri."

"Why not? You don't mind Rique."

"Rique doesn't remind me of the uncle I was named after, but you're avoiding the question."

"Which question?"

Enrique rolled his eyes, "The one I asked before you confessed that team Neoborg is the main theme in your wet dreams, is there someone you like?"

"I don't have wet dreams about team Neoborg _Enri."_

"So there _is_ someone you like?"

"Hello Oliver."

It was the quiet, little voice of Mathilda that stopped Oliver from snapping; instead, he forced a small smile.

"Hallo Mattie, Julia." He nodded to both girls, the latter huffed.

"It sure took you long enough."

"We were discussing team Neoborg Juls." Julia's eyes lit up, she was if possible even worse than Enrique when it came to gossip.

"They sure are something aren't they? Tala's antics are the topic of the day."

"Well it is rather ridiculous isn't it?" Enrique made a wide gesture motioning towards the sea of umbrellas, "All of this just because of one team."

It was a rather miserable sight indeed, more than thirty teenagers gathered on a muddy sports field, huddled together underneath umbrellas and not a sign of the downpour decreasing. Feet squelched in the mud with every step that was taken and profanities were shouted as people slipped or stepped into puddles, yelling to the person next to them that their umbrella was poking them.

"Hey Mr. D is that a new hat?"

On the tribune stood Mr. Dickinson, an umbrella in one hand and a mike in the other, a tired smile upon his face.

"Yes Tyson that is a new hat."

Even from the other side of the field the smug expression of a certain redhead was hard to miss.

"Think he has anything to do with it?" Julia whispered in his ear.

"Oh that's for sure," Enrique muttered back.

The best way to describe the Neoborg team was grim; they were the only ones who hadn't bothered bringing umbrellas, increasing the dark look that hung around the four boys. Spencer had his arms crossed over his chest; his head was angled towards the sky, his eyes closed as if he was relishing the rain. Bryan was standing at his right, a frown upon his face. In a repetitive movement, he kept rubbing the back of his neck; his other hand loosely clenched the shoulder of his youngest teammate. It was a shock to say at least when they had seen a very tanned Ian at the February Charity Matches, the goggles had been gone and he had grown, with his one meter sixty he still was the smallest member of his team but he wasn't one of the smallest bladders anymore. The height and the goggles aside the navy-haired teen hadn't changed one bit and together with Daichi and Kevin he had caused quit some havoc. To see him now, head bowed and shoulders slumped, hands burrowed in his pockets as he dug the nose of his foot aimlessly in the mud, the impish smirk gone and the mischievous sparkle in his eyes dimmed, not paying any heed to Kevin who was feverishly beckoning him, he looked like a complete other boy.  
What got people staring, though, was their attire. In the beyblade circle, there was the unwritten and unspoken rule that one wore the same clothing when going to meetings, events or tournaments, it showed who you were, it distinguished you from the rest and in the same time, it generally connected you to your team. American and proud of it, the All Starz attire practically screamed it. Noble aristocrats, the proper designer clothing gave the Majestics away. The multicultural bunch that formed G-Revolution was depicted in their chosen clothing. Born and raised to live for the cheer of the crowd, the costumes of F-Dynasty couldn't have been clearer. The traditional garments worn by the White Tigers left no doubt of their proud neko-jin heritage. Team BEGA, their clothes told all, representing the five completely different individuals with different backgrounds and personalities the team was made out of. The Battalion, casual T-shirts and trousers but with an almost futuristic look, representing them oh so well, just some regular teens putting up some scene they don't believe in themselves, and then there was team Neoborg.  
The thick material and the heavy boots betraying their hailing from the land of snow and ice, shoulders large and intimidating, the almost military look giving away their rank in the team. Simple green for the loyal soldiers that were Ian and Spencer, blood red for the second hand, the falcon's attire resembling those of a pilot and lastly Tala, his top inspired by the Russian generals of centuries ago.  
To see them like this, without their regular battle attire was insulting and worrying at the same time, insulting that that mute but by all respected rule could go to hell if it was up to them, worrying because they couldn't be bothered anymore to keep up the façade, like they were too tired to do so. Both Spencer and Bryan were clad in worn out boots, faded jeans and thick sweaters, whilst Bryan's was black with the complicated logo of some band printed on it, Spencer wore a simple one of a dark blue color, the sleeves rolled to his elbows. With his hair tied back into a neat, low ponytail, and wearing a blue, long-sleeved turtleneck together with grey pants and black sneakers Ian looked like the perfect schoolboy, and then there was Tala. Clad in all white he stuck out like a sore thumb but at the same time blended perfectly together with his team, like the eccentric captain of a pirate ship, distinguishing himself and at the same time mixing with his crew. He stood straight, head held high, his hands had formed lose fists at his side, his trademark devil horn hairstyle replaced by a ponytail.  
They stood aside, apart from the rest, four brothers unrelated by blood but bonded closer then the red liquid of life ever could.

"Now that you are all gathered here I would like to…"

Enrique immediately tuned out; he had heard enough of Mr. Dickinson's speeches to know that he first would praise all of them for their past achievements before starting on the actual topic.

He looked around him, most of the faces he could see had the same bored expression as him and he could count the ones who were actually interested on his hand.

Garland, Robert, Emily, Kenny and Tala, the latter's eyes narrowing dangerously.

"After much persuasion we convinced the government of Japan that all the previous troubles had been caused by team sponsors and mentors and not by the actual bladers themselves, therefore we are allowed to host a new tournament."

Loud cheers erupted after that, the bored expressions around him turned into smiles.

Enrique felt his own face lift up, an elated feeling spreading through his body as he looked at the beaming faces around him.

For a long time it was questioned if there ever would be another tournament again, government officials and child protection services alike had voiced their concern whether it was safe or not to encourage the sport to children. The BBA had started slowly with small charity matches, the one in February being the biggest beyblade event since Brooklyn's apocalyptic burst of insanity almost a year ago.

"I'm glad that all of you are as excited as I hoped but there is one restriction, no new teams are to be entered this year to prevent thwarting from outside. This is your chance to prove the world that they are wrong and it is your duty to make sure that the next generation of our world will be able to enjoy the sport like you do now." The old face wrinkled as his smile widened.  
"All of you are great sportsmen, from the old faces that have been in the professional business for over six years," A nod towards team Neoborg, "To the new ones who have only experienced one world tournament yet," A nod towards The Battalion, former BEGA and F-Dynasty.  
"However, you might be sportsmen foremost, secondly you are entertainers, and the thing is the fans know all of you, they know who you are and how you battle, therefore, to give the fans something new to watch, we decided to mix things a bit."

The rain drew out most of the murmuring as Enrique screwed his eyes close. _Please don't let him say what I think he is going to say._

"We have decided that in the _New Hope Tournament _that will be hosted coming June the teams will be mixed."

All hell broke loose.

"_This is pathetic," _Ian muttered softly as he wrapped his arms around himself.

"_You're losing your edge squirt."_

Ian looked up at Bryan who grinned at his shivering form and snorted, _"I've spent almost a year in South-America Bryan, one tends to get accustomed to the climate after such a period of time."_

"_It has made you weak Ian, you used to be able to stand the cold a hell lot better, just wait till we're back in Russia."_

Seeing the expression on the younger boy's face Spencer ruffled his hair.

"_Don't worry Ian, in three years we __will__ go home, no matter what."_

"_I'm just sorry that I'm tying you guys here for so long."_

"_Brazil really made you weak," _sneering Tala looked over his shoulder at his team, _"We would wait ten years for you just like you would wait ten years for us, so get your act together and stop acting like a fucking crybaby." _

While the Russians were having this conversation, Hiro had jogged up to the tribune and token hold of Mr. Dickenson's microphone.

"Listen closely you brats, you all should be grateful that there is an actual tournament to attend so if you don't like it don't participate."

This got most of them to calm down or shut up with the exception a few like Johnny, Michael and unsurprisingly his own brother who he just send withering glares before snatching a crumbled paper out of his pocket.

"This is the Teams list, members have been chosen at random and there is no room for discussion, everyone stays with their designated team during the tournament, there will be no team changing like in the previous years, again, don't like it don't participate. You've all got one week to notify the BBA if you don't want to be signed up, after this week it isn't possible anymore to withdraw from the tournament without a damn good reason, got it everyone?"

He took the grudging silence as a yes and unfolded the paper.

"Team one will consist out of: Ray Kon, Michael Parker, Miguel Piedra and Oliver Polanski."

"Not bad, Ollie," Mathilda whispered.

Oliver answered with a smile, "Not bad at all."

"In team two are: Kevin Cheng, Mystel Chrysou, Ian Papov and Daichi Sumeragi"

Enrique smirked, "Seems like Johnny's nightmare has come true."

"Team three: Mathilda Alster, Ming Ming Love, Johnny McGregor and Max Tate."

In team four are: Kai Hiwatari, Robert Jurgen, Garland Siebald and Lee Wong.

Team five: Rick Anderson, Moses Crusher, Spencer Petrov and Gary Tan"

"Random my ass," Enrique couldn't help but mutter as the names of the four giants were called.

"Team six: Julia Fernandez, Bryan Kuznetsov, Mariah Wong and Emily York."

Bryan's eyebrow twitched.

"Team seven: Tyson Granger, Tala Ivanov, Brooklyn Masefield and Enrique Tornatore."

His mouth fell open as he looked his new captain, Tala looked unfazed, bored even.

_I'll have psycho as my captain?_

Ignoring the sympathetic glances he got from his friends, he shook his head; at least Brooklyn and Tyson weren't so bad, not his favorite people but he could get along with them.

"And at last, team eight consists out of: Claude Aguila, Raul Fernandez, Aaron Olvidado and Eddy Wheeler."

Putting away the list the oldest Granger brother let his piercing glance slide over the grumbling teens before continuing.

"Look, we aren't happy with this either but we don't have any choice, think this all over and contact the BBA if you don't want to participate. I suggest that you meet up with your new team somewhere this week so you can decide who plays in what position, as soon as your new captain has notified us of this you will receive a folder with further instructions."

A suffocating silence followed, not a muscle was moved not a letter muttered, no one wanted to be the one to break it, to be the one who made the first move.  
Suddenly very self-conscious Hiro swallowed, feeling every single pair of eyes glaring up at him.  
The rain kept pounding down at them, as if it was mocking them with the constant pitter-patter it made on their umbrellas.

"Oh for heaven's sake!"

The sudden flash of white got everyone's attention, with four long strides Tala had made his way to the front of the tribune.

Piercing ice blue eyes searched the crowd for his new teammates, making everyone who his eyes locked with shiver.

"Granger, Masefield, Tornatore, follow me." The order was spoken calmly, his voice had hardly risen, but all of them had heard it and they knew it left no room for discussion.

Knowing they would obey he spun on his heel without looking if they were following him and headed for the street opposite the field, people automatically formed a path as they scrambled away when he stormed by.

Leaving Oliver to share an umbrella with Mathilda Enrique hurried to keep up with the quickly disappearing redhead.

"Where did he go?"

He had rounded the corner of the street where Brooklyn and Tyson were already looking for their new captain.

"Man Tala, this is not funny, dude where are you!"

"Tyson don't shout, knowing him it will only make him walk faster."

"There he is!" To his right Enrique had spotted a flash of read vanishing into an ally.

They kept on running but Tala continued to stay just out of their grip, leading them through narrow alleys and deserted byways, sometimes disappearing completely out their line of vision safe for a flicker of shocking red or brilliant white against the grey haze of the rain and the rapidly blackening sky. Like a memory or dream of which you could only recall a glimpse, tangible but every time you reach out it only darts further away, leaving you frustrated but more determinate than ever to find the complete dream.

"We lost him." Brooklyn was right, no matter which direction they looked at any sign of Tala stayed out.

"Do you guys know where we are?"

Brooklyn and Enrique stared at Tyson with raised eyebrows.

"Last time I checked you were the one born and raised in Beycity and we were the mere tourists speaking of which I haven't seen any of those in a while."

He was again right; Tala had led them to the part of town where the small streets were only roamed by a handful of locals and the occasional stray dog.

_I know you want me, want me  
You know I want cha, want cha  
I know you want me  
You know I want cha, want cha  
(Ha ha ha)_siRumba,

One two three four  
Uno do' tres cuatro

Rumba, si  
Ella quiere su Rumba, como?

"This is Enrique…."

"Tornatore look behind you."

Surely there he was, sitting at the back of a little cafe, a single blood red eyebrow raised as he closed his mobile phone.

With his steel toed, calf length boots, tight trousers and the wet button down shirt clinging to his body together with his fingerless gloves and multiple golden earrings Tala looked like a cross between a rock star and some Indiana Jones figure, and was that black nail polish?

"What the hell dude, are you wearing eyeliner?"

Tala didn't look up as he was busy rolling up his sleeves.

"Technically I'm wearing guyliner, but yes Granger, mascara and eye shadow too before you ask. Now why don't you take a seat before your drinks get cold."

Tala himself sipped from something what looked like coffee in a tall eared glass, opposite him a small teapot was placed which was obviously meant for Brooklyn, who gingerly took his seat across from the suddenly make-up wearing male. This left two mugs which both appeared to contain hot chocolate milk. Tyson and Enrique stared at each other, neither of them wanting to be the one sitting next to the eccentric redhead. Seeing their discomfort, said devil smirked and patted the seat next to him.

"The cappuccino choc shock is for the little gladiator."

Gritting his teeth Enrique sat down, keeping as much distance as possible from the booths other occupant.

"Contrary to popular belief I don't bite Tornatore."

"That still doesn't make you any more of an agreeable person Ivanov."

"True."

Lazily he stretched out; giving a view Oliver would have killed for to see. The first few buttons of his shirt were undone, revealing the smooth collarbone, not that the wet material hid anything really, everything was shown from his muscled form to the piercing in his nipple and the blue color of the tattoo on his shoulder. Taking full advantage of the space provided by Enrique he spread his legs and slung one arm around the back of the booth before taking a sip of his beverage.

"Isn't that Irish coffee?"

"Yes Masefield, why ask?"

"Doesn't that contain whisky?"

"Your point being?"

"Do you really think it's wise to drink alcohol at two in the afternoon?"

"You do realize you're asking a Russian?"

"If you're done playing twenty questions could you explain why we're here?" Enrique snapped, the Italian was sending both redheads irritated glares.

"But of course, I wanted to arrange a time for us to meet so we could discuss training schedules and accommodation for Brooklyn."

Tyson choked on his hot chocolate.

"You what! You dragged us through half of Beycity just to arrange a time?"

The smirk grew wider.

"Yes, and to treat my new team in the best café this city has to offer, how does Saturday sound to you?"

He was met with three equally dumbfounded stares.

"Saturday it is then, I was thinking about meeting at the park, you all know where to find it right? Granger you should, seeing as you live here. Masefield, considering your affinity with birds I take it you already visited it multiple times am I right? No doubt your driver has GPS Tornatore and otherwise you're rich enough to catch a cab, now excuse me I have to make a call."

The three of them stared perplexed as he wiped out his phone again.

"BBA Japan? Do you speak English? A bit, oh that will do. This is Tala Ivanov speaking, I would like to secure the positions in my team for the New Hope Tournament, okay I'll wait."

"Who, what, who the hell made you team captain!"

The phone was lowered and Enrique swore that if that smirk got any bigger Tala's face would break.

"You when you chose to obey my order and follow me through half of Beycity.

Yes, I'm still here, Brooklyn Masefield will be second in command and I'll be captain. So that's settled then? Great, I'll expect to see the folder before Wednesday, okay, pleasant afternoon to you too sir, bye."

Snapping the phone shut, he cocked an eyebrow at Tyson.

"Why so surprised Granger?"

"You can't do this! We have to decide as a team and, and, and I'm world champion!"

"We could have talked for days to decide the positions and we still would have come to the same conclusion, neither you nor Tornatore have any experience as a captain whereas I was chosen from over five hundred pupils to not only become the captain of his team but to be raised to be the general of Boris' new world and as he probably is the most skilled blader to have ever walked this world it would only be natural for Brooklyn to be the second in command. As to your title as undefeated world champion, let me tell you Granger Lady Luck has been dealing you some very fortunate hands during the years."

Finishing off the last of his Irish Coffee, he stood up and threw them three cards.

"My address, phone number and email, I expect you to be at the park entrance eleven o'clock sharp coming Saturday.

D'osvidanya."

With that, he walked away.

"Did he just compliment me?" Brooklyn had been in the progress of filling his cup when Tala had started his explanation; the teapot was still raised in midair as the prodigy was too stunned to do anything else beside blink.

"I think he did," Enrique said as he slowly brought his drink to his lips. He had to give it to Tala, the beverage was one of the best he'd ever had and considering this came from a boy who had been smothered by the best of the best since birth this was saying something.

The strong smell of Brooklyn's herbal tea wafted towards him as they remained silent. Enrique scrunched his nose, he had always hated tea with a passion, the scent alone could make him retch so he wished that the teen would just hurry up and drink the stuff instead of just stare at it blankly.

"That was… interesting."

"It sure was, now Brooklyn why don't you drink your tea before it gets cold."

Teal eyes looked up at him surprised at his tone but he took the hint and brought the cup to his lips. On any other day Enrique would have felt guilty for snapping at someone so kind as Brooklyn but today didn't give it a second thought.

"We just got tested."

Both turned their heads to Tyson, who was sulking above his almost empty mug of hot chocolate.

"We followed him through the rain like some frickin' dog would follow his owner."

Enrique stared at the moping teen, that was one way to put it.

"You heard him Tyson, if it is true what he said he was raised to be a general since a young age, it lays in human nature to follow someone like that."

Leaning back in his seat Enrique sighed and rubbed his temple, Brooklyn had a point there, the possibility of Tala _not _being captain hadn't even crossed his mind once, the idea of the Russian following orders from any of them seemed rather ridiculous now he thought of it.

Tyson huffed as he voiced this opinion.

"I know that, I'm not a complete idiot you know, I just don't like his higher-than-thou attitude and the way he _proclaimed _himself captain."

"There isn't much that we can do about it," Brooklyn mused as he nursed his second cup of tea, "We can only wait for Saturday to see what happens and from there we will decide our course of action for the coming seven months."

Nodding Enrique couldn't help but wonder how someone who nearly destroyed the world because he couldn't handle something as basic as _loosing _could be such a voice of reason.

_I know you want me, want me, you know I want cha, want cha, I know you want me…_

"Enrique Tornatore spea…oh it's you Robert."

"Is Ivanov still there? Are you alright and _where _are you?"

Wincing at the harsh tone of his captain he pinched the bridge of his nose. Robert was all politeness and etiquette's but when he was worried he was not someone you wanted to cross.

"Yeah I'm fine, we all are, Tala just left us in a small café but I haven't the foggiest where we are."

"The card."

"What?"

"Look at the menu card, most of the time you can find the address somewhere on it."

"Oh the card, right."

Said item had already appeared in his line of vision as it was held up by Brooklyn.

"Eh, okay, Tyson can you see the address somewhere on it?

Ryuu what? Bloody Japanese, Ryuunosuke 41, Robert did you get that?"

"Yes, now all three of you stay where you are and we will come and get you."

"But Robert I don't think…" the line was broken, "that the limo will fit in the street."

Tired he buried his face in his arms, refusing to look up at the two teens opposite him.

He ignored the soft footsteps of an approaching waiter and the rapid Japanese that followed between him and Tyson, that was until an undignified shriek assaulted his ears.

"That jerk didn't pay!"

It took some time before the meaning of that sentence settled in his foggy mind.

Taking out a thick wad of money he didn't even bother to look how much yen he pushed into the waiter's hand. Judging by the bulging of the man's eyes and Tyson's jaw practically hanging on the floor he had probably given the man the biggest tip of his life.

"Do you even know how much you just gave him?"

The Tornatore heir shrugged.

"Tell him to keep the change."

If there was one thing the Tornatore family didn't have to worry about it was money and Enrique wasn't about to become the first member to do so.

Hesitantly Tyson conveyed the message to the waiter who started mumbling and bowing feverishly.

"It's okay." With a wave of his hand he dismissed the man without a second glance.

"That was very generous of you Enrique."

Ignoring the prodigy Enrique knocked the last of his drink back and stood up.

"Where are you going?"

"I'm going to look if the street is wide enough for the limo to drive through."

He dully noted that it was going to be a tight fit but Robert's driver would be able to make it. Not wanting to return to his "teammates" he settled for leaning against the doorpost instead. Shivering he pushed his hands in his pockets, he was drenched, during the chase after Tala he had lost his umbrella and the little time spent in the café had done nothing to dry his clothes. The redhead had led them to the part of Beycity where you didn't want to be seen alone at night, the grimy café being the nicest building in the street. A man in his late forties hurried across the street, his rumpled uniform marking him as one of the numerous construction workers that were still busy with the restoring of Beycity after the Justice Five Tournament. Looking down at his now ruined cashmere shirt, he realized with a pang that his current attire probably was worth more than the man's monthly salary.

The loud honk of a car broke him out of his reverie but he ignored it, Robert's driver would be to dignified to do something as impertinent as _honk._  
The driver however was rather persistent so after a couple of seconds he looked up rather irritated to see what the racket was about. A white minivan was parked at the end of the street, the thing was old and rusty and it looked like it could fall apart at any given time. The windshield wipers were moving furiously, blurring the still honking driver and his passenger. Slowly the window was lowered, not with the fluent movement of electric windows but with a slightly stiff, faltering movement like the person wasn't all that well accustomed with scrolling it down manually.

"Enrique!"

Said Italian blinked, from all people to poke their head out of that pitiful excuse of a vehicle he sure as hell wasn't expecting Robert.

Shaking his head, he turned to call Brooklyn and Tyson but soon discovered that they were already standing behind him as he collided with Brooklyn's chest.

"Sorry."

"It's okay, now let's get in the car, I've seen enough of this place."

Nodding in agreement he followed the redhead into the minivan where he was greeted by Garland and Hiro behind the wheel.

"Buckle up you three."

Enrique would have been happy to oblige if it hadn't been for his very stubborn seat-belt who refused to be pulled out.

"Damn… thing, why agh!"

"Easy there pall, let me help you."

Very red-faced because he had to be buckled up by _Tyson _for goodness sake he sent a glare at the general direction of his captain who didn't look all that pleased either.

"So everything alright? How was Tala?"

"His usual sociable self."

"He wasn't that bad Tyson, and he even gave me a compliment coach!"

Hiro's gaze softened and Garland gave him an indulgent smile, "That's great Brook."

The childlike enthusiasm with which this sentence was said was heartbreaking, the teens face had lit up, his eyes sparkling as he gripped the back of Hiro's seat.

Enrique felt his throat clench, meant a single compliment so much to Brooklyn? Had Tala known what that one stray comment could cause or had he said it without thinking?

The entire drive Brooklyn kept on babbling to Garland, who didn't say a word himself but just gave reassuring smiles and once even ruffled the ginger hair affectionately.

"That was…"

"…interesting?" Enrique offered as he and Robert made their way into the hotel lobby.

"Definitely," Robert rubbed his brow, "I still have some errands to run so you can go to your room now, Oliver should already be up. I will see you again at dinner tonight."

"Okay and Robert, don't overwork yourself again."

The German gave him a small smile, "I'll make sure of that Enrique, now go and change out of those clothes before you get a cold."

"Si mamma."

Rolling his eyes Robert walked away.

Receiving some foul looks from various members of the staff he made his way towards the room he shared with Oliver, a muddy trail in his wake.

The petite Frenchman was perched on top of his bed, his feet dangling in the air as he was lying on his stomach.

"I'm going to take a shower."

"Okay."

Judging by the aloof, almost dreamy tone, he was reading something art related. As he grabbed a change of clothes Enrique made a quick mental note to take the book from his friend as soon as he came out of the shower. By the way Oliver remained completely motionless safe for his feverishly moving eyes he knew that the greennette was in one of his "moods" again. This generally meant that he wouldn't shut up all night about whatever new technique or style had caught his interest this time. Enrique didn't mind that, Oliver was actually quite funny in this "stage" of the mood. He would be chatty and practically bounced everywhere all the while flailing his arms with big motions, not to mention that his one tracked mind would make him very blunt so he blurted out the most random things. No, it was the second "stage" of the mood that the Italian was weary of. The little artist would get a certain gleam in his eyes and from there it could go two ways. Oliver would grow deadly quite and become edgy, when he went to bed he would toss and turn the whole night before finally giving in and get out, only so Enrique would wake up at some ungodly hour from the smell of oil paint and white spirit. That or Oliver would jump up immediately and get his materials, somehow Enrique got always roped up in helping him, from crossing half the town to get that one particular type of canvas or that one unique color of paint to actually four hours of sitting still as he had ended up as Oliver's subject.  
Stripping down he quickly decided that it was for the best if he stopped his friend while he still was at the first stage.

He turned the water up as hot as he could without burning and stepped into the shower. Ignoring the customary hotel shampoo, he reached for his own. Lathering his hair with it his mind went blank, his shoulders relaxing immediately. He loved showering, to him it was one of the most relaxing things in the world, the only time he was sure he wouldn't be disturbed. Being born in a rich family meant living up to expectations, there was seldom a moment when he wasn't wanted by someone, he might not take it as seriously and eager as Robert but he certainly wasn't a slob, his pride didn't allow him to be so. Only in the shower with the door firmly locked he knew that he would remain undisturbed by maids and his own family alike. It wasn't an unusual occurrence that he would remain in bath for hours, till the water run cold and his skin was welted.

Remembering his best friend and his current mood he grudgingly left the warmth of the shower way earlier than he would have liked. Drying himself with a fluffy towel he looked around the moist bathroom. It was large and decorated lavishly, an inviting looking tub in the right corner opposite from the shower out of which he had just emerged. To most people it would have been the epitome of luxury, but to him it was just another bathroom in just another hotel. Not liking the sudden cold he quickly dressed in simple blue trousers and a long sleeved shirt from the same color. Deciding that he would comb his hair before going down for dinner he exited the bathroom, steam engulfing him like some horror movie creature when he opened the door.

With relief he noted the absence of a certain gleam in his friend's eyes before flopping down next to Oliver.

Propping his head up on his elbow he looked at the still reading figure.

"What are you reading?"

"That book that Johnny gave to me last Christmas."

He grinned, "The porn book?"

"Artistic nude you pervert."

"If you say so."

Oliver's eyes hadn't even left the book once; there was no way he could get him away from the blasted thing if this kept up.

"I think Tala swings your way."

This got and reaction. Oliver looked up at him blinking.

"I beg your pardon?"

"I think Tala swings your way, you know, plays for your tea…"

"Tala? Tala Ivanov, the leader of the Blitzkrieg Boys who was raised in an abbey and who has a two by two pole shoved up his arse with bull shit like emotions are rubbish and victory is life, defeat to our enemies, that Tala?"

"Do you know any other Tala? He was wearing make-up."

"You're kidding me right?"

"No I'm not, nail polish, eye shadow, mascara, eyeliner, no _guy_liner, the whole deal."

"Tala?"

"Yes, Tala."

They just stared at each other.

"You really aren't joking are you?"

"No I'm not."

"Damn."

"Damn?"

"Yes damn."

"Why damn? Shouldn't you be overjoyed that your wet dream shares your preference?"

"For the last time I don't fantasize over any of the Blitzkrieg Boys, and I don't know just, damn he would be the last one I expected to be that way."

"It would be okay you know, perfectly normal, as you said yourself it are four good looking boys. I mean, I even had a dream about that G-Rev girl once and you know what a witch she can be."

"You dreamed about Hillary?"

"Yeah, those clothes that she wears really don't leave much to the imagination and she does have a cute butt."

"To many details mon ami."

They were silent for a while.

"Enrique?"

"Hmm?"

"Why does every conversation I have with you somehow turn sexual?"

"I'm a teenage boy Ollie, you know, hormones and all that."

Oliver snorted, "And what does that make me? A girl?"

"Gay Oliver, the likes of Robert and Garland together with homosexuals make up the refined part of the male population, making all the straight guys look like barbaric jerks to the female part."

"Hmmp."

He was looking at the book again, but he was flipping the pages rather aimlessly so Enrique didn't worry. Grunting he rolled over so he was now lying on his stomach too. Closing his eyes, he rested his head on his arms.

"How was Tala by the way?"

"He tested us, to see if we would follow he let us chase him through half of the city before we found him in a café where he had already ordered drinks for everyone. After that he called the BBA and just proclaimed himself captain without consulting any of us. Tyson naturally protested and reminded everyone once again that he is world champion, only to get dissed by Tala who left after that without paying and Brooklyn was well…Brooklyn. Did you already speak with your _team?_"

"Yeah, we're going to meet on Wednesday, they are okay really. I think either Miguel or Michael is going to be our captain but I'm fine with both."

The rustling of paper stopped.

"Pull off your shirt."

Enrique looked up, the gleam was in Oliver's eyes.

"Why?"

Oliver merely jabbed a finger at a picture.

Enrique just blinked. He wasn't a prude, far from it, but that pose was just plain _wrong_.

"What does that picture have to do with me pulling off my shirt?"

"I need a model."

He stared at the page open mouthed as Oliver hopped off the bed and started gathering his materials.

He was going to kill Johnny.

* * *

This was chapter two, I hope I haven't disappointed anyone and my apologies for my lame attempt at humor.

The next chapter will be focused again at team Neoborg and maybe Emily.

Thanks for reading and please tell me what you thought of it, even if you hated it.

~*~

Silent Pandemonium


	4. Chapter 3 Normal

A/N: Hey everyone, I'm sorry it took me this long to update, school took up a lot more time than I expected and I think I rewrote the last half of this chapter about four times and I'm still not very satisfied with it. Oh well…

Thanks to my reviewers _Darial Kuznetsova_ and _Windstar_, I really appreciated your kind words!

Disclaimer: I don't own Beyblade and the man you love belongs to Il Divo

Anyway, enjoy chapter 3

_

* * *

_

Quiero estar dentro de tu corazón,

_Poder lograr que me ames como yo_

Had Tala left the radio on again? Scowling Spencer closed the door, he had told Tala to turn that thing off when they went out, the electricity bills where high enough as they were without the redhead wasting energy like this.

_I only wanna be the man  
to give you everything I can  
every day and every night  
love you for all my life._

He shook his head as the language switched from Italian to English, there was no way Tala would listen to something as sappy as this.

_I don't wanna change the world  
as long as you're my girl  
it's more than enough,  
just to be the man you love_

So whose was it then? Bryan would rather go to a tea party hosted by the White Tigers then listen to _this _and Ian had never shown any particular interest in his captain's choice of music either. Making his way into the living room he felt like he could hit himself. He wasn't really to blame though, after all he had seen the newest resident of Winter lane number 69 only four times since her arrival last week. Natanya really had taken her brother's threat to heart, not a sound not a sight indeed. The girl moved like a ghost, invisible safe for a flash of black as she hurried away from them. The soft rustling of her skirt being the only thing betraying her presence, the suddenly tidy rooms and the lingering smell of her perfume the only actual proof that she was living here.

Taking in a deep breath, he closed his eyes. He could still smell her scent; it was so different from the sharp, spicy smell of their cologne and deodorants that it had confused all of them at first. It was rather humiliating to be honest, with their abbey training all of them could distinguish the smell of various poisons and Ian could name the chemical formulas of a substance by merely _sniffing_ at it but it had taken them almost the whole evening to realize that the soft, flowery fragrance was a bloody women's perfume. How could they have known however? None of them had ever seen a single woman at the abbey, not even a female scientist. The only time they came in contact with the other sex were at beyblade events or whenever Tala and Bryan went clubbing (for some reason Spencer and Ian were always dragged along even though neither of them enjoyed it), a fragrance as soft as Natanya's would be lost entirely, diluting with the scent of a thousand others and obscured by the prevailing smell of sweat and alcohol.

He opened his eyes and looked around the sparsely decorated room that had been a mess this morning. Tala had decided on the last moment to put on some make-up, as usual taking him forever to do so, when he had finally emerged from the bathroom they had practically dropped whatever they were holding so they could be in time for the meeting. The magazines Ian had just thrown on the coffee table were now neatly piled together on the corner of said table, Bryan's carving knife and the piece of wood he had been working on were placed next to them and the book Spencer himself had left on the couch was lying in the other corner.

Tiredly he rubbed his face. Should he join Natanya in the kitchen? The girl had been hiding for a week and he didn't want her to flee now that she had finally left her room. Hesitantly he walked towards the kitchen door, no matter what Tala said they couldn't avoid her for the three years to come could they? On the other hand it was Tala's sister, if he didn't want to have anything to do with her than why should they? Shaking his head he grabbed the doorknob. No, the girl couldn't communicate normally and she probably didn't even know Japanese, he would not let her live in complete loneliness for three years, he did have something akin to a conscious after all.

"You're cooking?"

A pained yelp escaped her lips as she turned around in surprise. Spencer winced; he hadn't meant to startle her but after years of sneaking past guards and traps he tended to forget that normal people made a lot of sound when entering a room.

"Are you okay?"

Judging by the pained expression, she wasn't.

"What's wrong?"

She held up her right hand, blood was welling up from a large cut across her palm. A sudden beam of light broke through the small kitchen window and Spencer felt his breath get caught in his throat. The blood appeared to be unnaturally dark against her snow-white skin, shimmering in the sudden beam of light, like little rubies against white satin. He blinked, what the hell? What was wrong with him? This was the second time that he had been almost… mesmerized by the girl's blood.

Briskly he took hold of her wrist.

"Hold still." Irritated he felt that her whole body became rigid as he inspected the wound. Why was she always so tense around him? He could understand she didn't like Bryan, the falcon had taken to ogling the girl whenever he saw her and seeing that Bryan could make a full-grown man shit his pants by merely _looking _in his general direction it was nothing more than normal for Natanya to dislike him. For some reason or another, Ian was reduced to a blabbering idiot when he was in her proximity and (luckily) she hadn't met her brother since her arrival last Monday. All in all, he had acted the most normal towards her, so why did she tense up when he was around?

"It isn't deep, sit down and I'll bandage it."

A bit bleary eyed she nodded before sitting down at the kitchen table. Spencer scoffed as he turned around, the wound wasn't very deep, granted it was going to hurt because the cut ran horizontally along the middle of her palm but it surely was nothing to cry for. He could feel her eyes on his back as he reached for the first aid kit in the cupboard next to the fridge. (The thing had originally been kept in the medicine cabinet but it had proven to be more practical to keep it in the kitchen with all the brawls Bryan ended up in.) It was strange how this one girl could get so many reactions from his normally stoic team. True, she was beautiful, but a far cry from the hot and dumb way Bryan preferred his one nightstands, so why did he eye her up every time he saw her? Why did _Ian _of all people stutter and blush when he was in the same room? As she was sitting there, head bowed and dressed in a white, knee lengthened skirt and an oversized ice blue sweater he couldn't help but think that it would be downright _wrong _to be turned on by someone like her, she simply looked too innocent. She was like one of those paintings, a kind of beautiful that should be left untouched except by time.

Spencer shook his head. What the heck? Since when did he become so…questioning? Philosophic even? _Since Natanya's arrival, _a little voice in the back of his mind said. It was true, but why? _Because your teammates react so odd to her presence. _He inwardly groaned as he pulled back the chair next to Natanya, great, was he developing an inner voice or what? There came no reply from the back of his mind so he sat down in relief.

As he started to wipe away the excessive blood he couldn't deny it, his teammates _had_ beenreacting strange since her arrival. Bryan was unusually edgy and so was Ian, Bryan a bit more then the shorter boy because his room was next to Natanya's. The worst however was Tala, he was shifty and even more bad tempered than usual, the sneers and snide remarks that were usually reserved for the other teams were now also directed at them, and then there were the mood swings. The redhead could turn from deadly quiet to; there was no other word to describe it, downright _bitchy _in a mere second_, _like Bryan had found out the hard way by oh so tactfully telling their captain that he was worse than a PMSing Ming Ming. The first aid kit being in the kitchen had been proven to be very practical once again.

The sharp smell of chemicals filled his nose as he poured some antiseptic onto a wad of cotton. Spencer had always wanted to become a doctor, when he was little he had always been the one to tend to the scraped knees and elbows of his friends. One of the medics at the abbey, Kiron, a young man who had just gotten out of university, had taken a liking to the curious boy and had taught him about the finer art of medicine. But as he grew older the injuries become worse, scraped knees became fractured kneecaps and scraped elbows became infected wounds, what had once been eagerness to learn had become a necessity to survive. When they came out of the abbey, Spencer still was the medical backup for his injury prone teammates. Ian was a genius in chemistry and anything explosive, but whenever one of his experiments backfired Spencer was the one who treated his burns. To Bryan he was the one waiting when he came home late at night, drunk as hell and the injuries a testimony to the bar fight the Falcon had undoubtedly started himself. Spencer would curse him and whack his head for good measurement but he would help him nonetheless. And Tala, well sometimes Spencer seriously questioned his friend's mental stability. Every now and then Tala enjoyed a good fight just like all of them, he however would take it a step further than the rest. He would step into a bar, find the most aggressive guy and rile him up to the point of pure fury. A fight would result; Tala would let the guy have the upper hand for a bit before pulling a knife, which he would 'accidentally' drop. From there on came the dangerous part, the redhead would _let_ himself get attacked with the knife before suddenly, often with one single move, reversing the rolls and take the man into a deadly grip, a wolfish grin on his face and his blue eyes sparkling. Spencer thanked whatever deity listening that it wasn't a regular occurrence and that he only had to literally stitch his captain up once every so months.

A whimper brought him out of his reverie.

Natanya was feverishly trying to free her hand from his grip, the tears in her eyes almost falling.

He rolled his eyes and wiped the wound one last time with the cotton.

"I forgot to tell you that it was going to sting."

She just shot him a teary glare.

He snorted, this was one of the reasons why he hadn't gone of the university to go and study medicine, how was he supposed to treat a full-grown man howling in pain when he had seen twelve year olds almost been beaten to dead and not utter a sound? How was he supposed to put his trust in scientists when _his _body had been moderated and altered by them? How was he to react and respond to normal people when he had never been, and never would be normal? Neither he nor Ian had any memories from before the abbey and they both felt uncomfortable in large crowds, unlike Bryan and Tala who weren't practically born in the abbey and once were normal. No, he was just doing fine at his job at Hiwatari Enterprises, he hardly came in contact with anyone except Kai, the payment was good and he had a guaranteed job when they moved back to Russia in three years.

"Here you go," he said as he finished of bandaging her hand.

She rubbed her eyes and opened the pouch hanging from her hip, producing a dark purple book.

He watched her curiously as she gave him a small smile, opened it and scribbled one single word, before pushing the book towards him.

_Thanks._

"No problem, lucky you are left handed.

She took the book again and wrote something different.

_I'm dexterous._

"Oh."

They sat in silence, she was biting her bottom lip and Spencer was trying to avoid her stare, which was just as piercing as her brother's.

Hesitantly she brought the pen to the paper, send him a glance and put it down again.

This movement was repeated a couple of times, increasing Spencer's unease with the situation by the second.

He snapped when she put the pen down for the eight time or so, "Just ask whatever it is you want to know already!"

She shot him a last, calculating glance before she started scribbling again.

He felt his eyebrows shoot up when he read her neat, loopy handwriting.

_Why are you so worried?_

"What makes you think I'm worried?"

She laughed.

Spencer reeled back as he heard the high, chiming sound, not very loud in volume but not very soft either, like rustling leaves in an autumn wind. He didn't know what, but as he listened to the almost unearthly sound, he knew something was _wrong _with that girl. His brains told him he was being an idiot; Natanya was a weak, completely harmless little female who he could kill with a flick of his wrist. Then there was something deep inside of him, instinct maybe, which told him to stay away from her.

The sound of scribbling replaced her laughter as she started writing again.

Shakily he leaned back against the chair, his eyes never leaving the girl next to him.

She gave him an apologetic smile when she pushed the book towards him.

_You only ruffle your hair when you're worried plus you have been frowning the whole time._

He stared at her, "But how…"

Natanya chuckled softly, effectively breaking him off as she leaned forward so she could reach the book.

_Just because you haven't seen me it doesn't mean that I haven't seen you._

Spencer just blinked, his mouth opening and closing in a repetitive movement.

Being the oh so lovable guy he is, Kai has a whole arsenal of insulting nicknames for every human being that crosses his path. About a quarter of this witty munitions is solely dedicated to Tyson, one of the mildest being "King Goldfish" because of his famous goldfish impersonation whenever the world champion gets dissed or thoroughly confused. (Seeing as he tended to hang around Kai and Kenny this happened quiet often.) Spencer however would have been sure that if the dual haired blader had been present he would have upped Spencer to King and Tyson would have been made Prince without a second thought.

Finally, he managed to croak out some words, "Do you have any idea how creepy that sounded?"

She just gave him a smug grin and flung her arm around the back of her chair and at that moment, she looked so much like her brother that Spencer had to repress the urge to hit her like he would have hit the redhead.

Suddenly her face screwed up in a scowl. He watched her questioningly as she snatched the book up, wrote something down and tore the paper out of it. A low growl emitted from the back of her throat as she crumbled up the piece of paper and flung it at him. In a reflex he caught it.

_GO AND CHANGE NOW!_

Perplexed he looked up at her, "what, why?"

A pale finger pointing to something behind him was her answer. Following her gaze he found the reason for her dismay, the muddy trail that had been left in his wake.

A dripping wet Bryan chose that moment to walk into the kitchen. Did I say walk? I meant barge.

Not paying any heed to his surroundings, he immediately made his way to the fridge all the while muttering incoherently. "Crazy old goat… mixing teams… damn brothers…bloody bossy females…fucki… what the hell!"

As Bryan was staring wide eyed at Natanya with his mouth hanging slightly open and his hands still raised in defense, Spencer decided that the Falcon would be emperor Goldfish, but then again it wasn't like anyone could blame Falborg's wielder, it wasn't exactly an everyday occurrence that someone summoned up the nerve to pelt the Russian bad boy with crumbled pieces of paper.

"That's her way of saying hay."

His teammate looked doubtfully from him to Natanya, who was by now sending death glares worthy of a Hiwatari.

"You're sure?"

"Just read the notes."

Bryan send them both one last glance before he unfolded the pieces of paper.

"Get changed and if you dare to look at my breasts again I'll kill you," He snorted at the last one, "Four dead threats in less than thirty minutes, it just keeps getting better and better."

"The damn brothers?"

"Yeah, Parker told me he'd kick my ass if I hurt York, Wong promised to send some sort of jinx after me if I dared to touch that pink thing, and when Fernandez came to me trying to be menacing I walked away."

Spencer snickered, "You got threatened by Raul?"

Bryan gave him a dark look and turned to the fridge.

The blonde rolled his eyes at this, "You're still moody because you got paired up with the girls?"

"Moody? I'm pissed as hell." His eyebrow twitched as he closed the fridge with much more force than needed.

"They're just so goddamn _bubbly,_ I swear Fernandez and Wong were giggling the whole time I spoke to them, and York needs to learn how to speak human language instead of that geek speak she uses."

He opened the lid of his soda can with a frown on his face. "I mean, why did they pair up _me _of all people up with only girls? Why not that Italian snob?"

Spencer sighed: "They want to encourage beyblading Bryan, not teenage pregnancies."

The other waved it aside. "You know what I mean, and to make it even worse they can drink each other's blood, how the hell am I supposed to turn this thing into a "team" when Wong and Fernandez already have paired up against York?"

Spencer shrugged, "Just solve it like they were guys."

Bryan took a seat opposite him and took a swig of his drink.

"For some reason I don't think getting them to fight it out would work Spence."

"You could always make them hate you; if there is something that draws people together it's a shared cause."

"I was considering forcing them to work together but them having an I-hate-Bryan-campaign might work better."

Natanya snorted.

They turned their eyes to her, Bryan looking like he had forgotten she was even there and Spencer simply cocking his eyebrow for what felt like the hundredth time that day.

She sighed, rolled her eyes and grabbed her book and pen once more.

_Are you really expecting those options to work?_

"Well…yeah of course it'll work, why not?" Bryan asked after he had to squint to read upside down.

Natanya blinked, looked from Bryan to Spencer before she blinked again and shook her head.

_Are all men this simplistic and one track minded or are you two just prime examples of cavemen?_

Bryan nearly choked on his soda, "what?"

It was funny, Tala mused, only hearing half of a conversation. His modified hearing picked up every sound coming from the kitchen, from Il Divo on the radio to Bryan's choked exclamation and from the soft sound of pen on paper to hissing sound of something getting cooked on the stove.

"It's simple, I'll just make them hate me so much they'll group against me, thus forcing them to work together so they will forget whatever feud they are having."

Tala rolled his eyes at Bryan's explanation, for someone as smart as him he could be such an idiot at times. The sound like a page was turned, followed by the scratching of pen on paper. A low thud as something was slammed on the table, the soft sloshing of liquid indication that it was a glass or can. A chair was pushed back, scraping over the floor. Unnaturally soft footsteps made their way to the fridge, probably Spencer, the giant always had had a knack of moving around soundless. Something was slid across the tabletop, a short silence followed, before another one of Bryan's indignant exclamations filled the air. The fridge was opened and closed, the footsteps returned to the table and not much later Spencer's booming laughter reached his ears.

The redhead shook his head and walked towards the stairs, his muddy boots in his hand. His team could be so oblivious to normal things at times, he himself included, but if Bryan really would go through with his plan to get his team together by making them hate him, it wouldn't be before long before the Falcon discovered the female ability to hold grudges. Closing the door of his room his mind went to his "new team" as he started to change out of his wet clothes.

He knew that the whole, "teams were chosen at random" was utter bollocks, the teams were put together with a reason, in some cases, like with Bryan's team, the reason was beyond him but there was a reason. Brooklyn was put together with him because out of team BEGA he had suffered the most from Boris' control, like he had suffered the most from team Neoborg. They were probably expecting that the shared experience would help the young prodigy to deal with his problems. The compliment he had given the teen this afternoon had been deliberately, it had confirmed his suspicions, Brooklyn was still in the hesitation faze. All four of them had gone through it, Spencer the quickest and Bryan the slowest. Only they had had each other, Brooklyn was going through it alone. Sure, his team undoubtedly was trying to help him, but without knowing what he was going through the only thing they could do was give advise like they would give a normal person. That was the problem, just like team Neoborg Brooklyn was he expected to behave and function in a world he didn't understand and to _be _normal while he had never known normalcy. He was now going through the hesitation faze, he had come to terms with his life and to the outside world he was normal, while in reality this was just an act, the slightest change out of his normal routine being enough to throw him back. He had seen the hesitation, the insecurity in the teal eyes as he complemented Brooklyn, who had always been shunned for being the best, on his skills.

It was easy to guess why Granger had been put together with him as well, with his limited knowledge and skills the dragon was already good, never mind what he could be if he was trained by someone like Tala, a perfectionist at heart. That was the main difference between Kai and Tala, they were both equally matched in skills and leadership, only Tala did everything with all his emotions and passions, while Kai treated nearly everything beside himself almost halfheartedly. Kai had made G-rev the best team there currently was, and that was good enough for him, he didn't put any further effort in them than that. Tala on the other hand never stopped, he knew perfection was impossible to reach but he would be damned if he ever stopped trying. He was going to force Granger not to be just the best in his days, but to be the best that there ever would be.

Tornatore was the odd one out, he decided as he pulled a green sweatshirt over his head. Brooklyn, Granger and himself were three of the best bladers at this moment in time, so why did the BBA spoil a super team like that with such an average blader like the Italian? Did they give them a weak link on purpose or was the easy going blond there as a contra weight to the socially inept redheads on the team? Whatever the reason Tala needed to get more information about the noble, he knew Brooklyn's and Granger's moves and backgrounds from the inside out but he knew near to nothing about the Italian.

With dismay he looked at the pile of dirty clothing, it was Bryan's turn to do the laundry this week and if he didn't want his white shirt to end up pink he'd either have to wait for a week or do it himself. Sighing he decided that he'd better do it now and be done with it. Irritated he noted the black stain on his shirt as he picked it up, that mascara had been meant to be waterproof. Grumbling he picked up the rest and stomped out of his room again to the little room next to the kitchen where they kept the washing machine, tumble dryer and other domestic appliances.

He hadn't even made it to the top of the stairs however when he heard the sounds of Spencer and Bryan leaving the house. Tala frowned, what could possibly get those two to go out in this weather? He shrugged it off; if those idiots wanted to get drenched again he wasn't going to stop them. He interrupted his way to the stairs another time to close the still opened bathroom door, but as he was about to close it his attention suddenly got caught by his reflection in the mirror. The make-up was running down his face and his hair had escaped the tight ponytail he had put it in this morning, making him look like a cross between a redheaded Alice Cooper and a drowned rat.

If he looked back this would have been the point where he should have walked away and wait with removing the make-up until one of his teammates got home, but at that moment in time the vain teen wanted nothing more than to get the filth of his face. It was with this intention that he thoughtlessly ran a brush trough his hair and that he poured some make-up remover on a wad of cotton. Just as he expected the mascara was difficult to get off, the bloody thing had been a waste of his money, it started to run when it came in the slightest contact with rain but when you actually _tried _to get it off it was all of a sudden waterproof. But with every patch of black that disappeared his hands started to shake, his blood pounded in his ears with a deafening _kaboom, kaboom. _With every layer that was removed, with every color that vanished his hart started beating faster, his stomach turned and his throat clenched shut. He should have stopped, but his pride didn't allow him to. His breathing was erratic, on the brink of hyperventilating, his face covered in a thin film of sweat. Cold sweat, sweat of fear. Fear of what he would see when the mask was removed, fear for what he was.

With a shaky, almost aggressive movement, he removed the last traces of eyeliner. General Ivanov was staring back at him. It didn't matter that Andrei Ivanov had had green eyes instead of blue, it didn't make a difference at all that his hair had been cropped short, Tala was still a copy of him, a copy of a monster. His knuckles were white from the grip he held on the sink. No, it didn't matter at all, he was modeled after a monster, he had been raised by one, and he had been trained by one. Forcefully he pushed the air out of his nose as he stared at the anger-filled face of his father in the mirror. Did that make him a monster?

_NO!_

Panic's iron claw seized his heart as his head was filled with memories.

_No, no, no, please._

His cries were all in vain; his eyesight became hazy, focused on the past.

_Not now, please not now._

Red and white.

_God I beg you, please not again._

Blood on snow.

_But why would you listen to someone like me?_

Screams filled his ears; the sickingly sweet smell of death filled his nose.

_Why would you listen to a monster?_

A cold so cold that it felt like fire was scorching his skin.

_Why would you listen to a devil?_

Something was sticking to his hands, warm and gooey.

_A murderer?_

His hands were painted in red, red on white, blood on snow.

_For that is what I am._

A monster.

Tala opened his eyes, he was panting softly as he sunk to the floor, not paying any heed to the shards of the shattered mirror. His bloodied right hand was throbbing, but he was feeling oddly calm, almost numb. Footsteps were running up the stairs but he didn't hear them, his own screams were still ringing trough his ears, the blood still pounding with its deafening _kaboom kaboom.  
_The door was opened but he didn't turn around. A person placed itself behind him, arms encircling him, a hand softly guiding his head to their shoulder. He closed his eyes and leaned in to the cold, caring touch.

He may have sat there for an hour, for a minute or for a lifetime he didn't know, all perception of time seemed to fade away as he sat there waiting for the storm of memories to go away. He waited and waited for everything to become normal again, but he had never been normal, and he never would be. Panicked he snapped his eyes open and tightened his grip on his only lifeline. Natanya was looking down at him, her face filled with worry and her eyes shining with sympathy and…understanding?

But Tala's mind was still a storm of bloodstained snow and through the haze he didn't see the caring face of his sister, but the face of his abandoning bitch of a mother instead. He jumped up, pushing the girl away in the process. Natanya hadn't been expecting the sudden movement and certainly not the sheer force her brother had used. With wild, unfocused eyes he watched her fall, watched how she put her arm behind her to lessen the impact. He saw her scream rather than he heard her when long shards imbedded themselves deeply into her unnaturally pale arm. Red on white, blood on snow.

He shook his head.

_No._

He scrambled up and ran.

* * *

A/N:

It's a bit darker than the first two chapters so I hoped you enjoyed it, and I know that I promised Emily last time but this chapter kept writing itself so Emily will get a chapter on her own. (not the next one though)  
Please tell me what you think and R&R!

~*~  
Silent Pandemonium


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